


Bedhead

by sarahgene12



Category: Mumford & Sons (Band)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Married Couple, Married Sex, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:38:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Marcus Mumford loves his wife. She loves the surprise she has to tell him.





	

Marcus yawned, rolled over, and blinked sleepily in the morning light. The curtains were pulled back, and the day was making itself brazenly known to him.

Groaning, he pulled the quilt over his head and closed his eyes again, relishing in the warmth under the covers. The old house he and Carey had bought out in the country was beautiful, perfect, but it got damn hard to heat in the winter, and there were drafts. He loved the old-timey feel about the place, the fireplaces and gas stoves, and the smell of the wood. 

"Marcus?" Carey was calling him, it sounded like from far away. He grunted, already drifting off to sleep again. 

"Hey, Marcus!" She was much closer now, and much louder; he could hear her bare feet slapping the oak floors out in the hall. 

Marcus grumbled into the pillow. He listened for the door creaking open, pulling the quilt in closer to his body to make a cozy little cocoon. 

"Marcus, it's nearly noon! You've missed breakfast!"

He stayed under the covers, where it was warm. "Sorry, bug. It's fucking cold out there." He heard her sigh.

"Baby, get out of bed."

Marcus grunted again, but didn't budge. He waited, and heard Carey go around to her side of the bed. The sheets rustled, and ther was a second where the cold air swept in and prickled Marcus' skin. He shivered. 

"What're you doin, gimme the blanket!" he griped, groping for the quilt. Instead of wool, his hand found soft skin, and Carey squealed.

"Move over, you big idiot, there isn't any room!" She curled up to him tightly, guiding his hand around her tiny waist. She had to wriggle upwards to poke her head above the covers. Girinning, her hair standing up all over her head from the static, Carey planted a kiss on her husband's mouth. "Hello stranger. D'you think you'll ever get up or do I have to tell the boys you're doing all your gigs in just your pants?"

Marcus stuck out his tongue, but then he looked coy. "Then one of us is going to have to go get them, 'cause I'm not wearing pants."

Carey pulled a theatrical expression of shock, making a show of peeking under the sheets. Her eyes sparkled. "Why Mr. Mumford! What kind of girl do you think I am?" Giggling, she sat back on her heels, trying to keep a straight face. "And what have you been doing with yourself? You might've been asleep but your little friend sure isn't!" She winked. 

Marcus huffed. "It's morning! I can't help it!"

Carey only giggled, swinging a leg over his waist and settling herself astride his lap. She tossed her hair prissily. 

Marcus stared up at her, his expression nearly one of awe. He reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair away from her face, behind one pale ear. His fingers brushed her cheek. "I love you," he said, breathing the words out like a confession. "I do." 

Carey smiled at him, leaning down and kissing the tip of his nose. "I know, silly. I love you too." Still holding her eyes on his, her grin softening, she slipped a hand beneath the covers, down between them, where her thighs straddled his hips. She found him, already half-hard. Wrapping a delicate hand around hs penis, Carey slid herself downwards under the covers, until her chin rested on his belly. 

Marcus couldn't see her, but he felt her hand slowly working on him, up and down, squeezing and relaxing, and a hot trickle of pleasure pooled in his lower belly. "I thought you wanted me out of bed," he cracked, watching the shape of her hand move under the quilt and biting his lip. 

"I might've changed my mind," came her muffled reply. The pressure of her hand increased, and Marcus moaned lowly. 

"Oh god, baby. That feels good."

Her laughed tickled the dark hairs on the inside of his thighs. The round bump under the quilt, her head, moved further down and her breathe awoke a full, new sensation in him, on him, as she kissed that tenderest of places. 

He watched her, the shape of her, color rising in his cheeks, his heart starting to beat out a frantic high rhythm. "Hey," he whispered, his voice rough with arousal, his throat incredibly dry, "I wanna see you. Lemme see your face."

Carey wiggled up from under the covers, pulling the blanket back from her face with her girlish hands. Marcus looked at her, adoring the way her cheeks flushed brilliant pink, how her hair framed her face in wild tangles, mussed by the bedsheets. 

Pushing the covers away, she sat upright again, purposefully sliding herself over her husband's crotch, feeling the centers of themselves touch and humming low in her throat with pleasure. She sat astride him again, giggling helplessly at the way he tickled her inner thigh.

Marcus watched her, eyes half-closed as she raised herself up on her knees, clumsily pulling off the underwear she'd been wearing under one of his old shirts. They snagged around one ankle and she went tumbling on top of him, shrieking with laughter. "Oh shit!" she cried, laughing harder at the expletitive leaving her pretty little mouth. Marcus freed the troublesome panties off of her foot and tossed them to the floor, chuckling himself as Carey untangled herself from his tshirt and the sheets, and righted herself again. 

Her hand found him again and stroked up and down, faster this time, until he was nearly panting. His mouth dropped open and she seized the opportunity and kissed him, hard and sweet. "Mmmm, delicious," Carey mumbled, smiling wide. He kissed her again. She rubbed her thumb over the head of his penis and the sensation of her cool fingers made Marcus' sighs catch in his throat, and he sat up suddenly, nearly thrown over the edge. 

"Oh God, goddamn it Carey!" He moaned into the crook of her shoulder, and she peppered his neck with little kisses, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Marcus' hands took ahold of her slender hips and squeezed, his fingers pressing hard into her flesh. She let him lift her up until her knees barely kissed the mattress.

She gripped his shoulders tight, bracing herself with her feet and settling herself slowly downward, her head thrown back as he went fully inside of her. She sighed, lips parted, and rolled her hips, feeling her husband's mouth on her neck, and on her breasts, on her stomach. Marcus was holding her waist in a vice-grip, so tightly it almost hurt; the iron bedposts rocked and kissed the thin plastered walls in a steady rhythm, over and over with each thrust of Carey's hips. 

Marcus had his head bent back on the pillow, eyes wide, watching his wife move on top of him. He was grunting, nearly in perfect time with the smacking of the headboard against the wall, and he was cursing under his breath.

"I love you, I love you baby, I love you so much," Carey whispered, bending down over him to whisper it into his ear. The air around them was still cold; their breath mingled in little grey clouds between them, extinguished by their mouths.

Marcus couldn't answer; Carey leaned back until her hair was just tickling his thighs. She moved her hips in a circular motion, moaning through her lips and feeling him tense up inside her. 

"Bug-- baby-- C-Carey--" Marcus was still holding her hips, his fingers pressing tender divuts into her soft skin; now he pulled her downwards, rocking his hips up and pushing himself all the way into her, again, and again, until she tightened around him, her whole body quivered. 

Carey cried out, her voice echoing purely off the high white walls, her legs turning nearly to jelly. She fell forward onto Marcus so they were face to face, chest to chest. She thrust at him hard, and kissed him until their teeth knocked together, and kissed him until their tongues were in knots. 

Marcus came in the middle of the third kiss, this one tender. Then the headboard was still. 

Carey curled herself up into the crook of her husband's arm, small breasts heaving, her hair even wilder than before. Marcus finally let go of her waist, and where his hands had been were red finger-shapes. Now he caressed the curve of her back, the slight swell of her little belly. She sighed contentedly and traced swirls and circles on his chest. 

The blanket was kicked down to their ankles, but neither cared. Marcus kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth, then her chin, and breathed in the simple sweet smell of her. 

"Hey big guy. Guess what?" There was a small smile on her face. 

He looked down at her, her little blonde head resting on his still rapidly rising and falling chest. "What is it, bug?"

"I want a baby. I want a small version of you and me. I want somebody to call me Mum."

Marcus kissed her for a long time for this, holding her head in one of his hands. Then he said, "But babe, aren't you on those pills? I thought you said you went to the doctor and--"

"I stopped taking them, like a month ago." She met his eyes, for a moment looking like it was a serious thing she had told him. Then it was like the sun had come up over the clouds, and her whole face lit up in an enormous smile, and her eyes sparkled. "You might've just made me a mum!"

Marcus whooped and laughed with amazement, loud enough that Carey covered her ears and shrieked with giggles, and the two of them got tangled in the sheets, rolling over and over each other and covering one another with kisses. 

Breakfast had been forgotten.


End file.
